


Taphephobia

by a_dangerous_sociopath



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 21:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_dangerous_sociopath/pseuds/a_dangerous_sociopath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a botched away mission, McCoy encounters a fear he didn't even know he had</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taphephobia

**Author's Note:**

> Another kink meme fill, this time just a request for some McCoy hurt/comfort. I don't even know where the rest of this came from.

When Bones finally wakes up he can't see a thing. His head pounded like the worst hangover of his life, and though he was flat on his back, he couldn't shake the notion that he was somehow  _rolling_ , like a ship caught in a violent storm. It takes him a few minutes for him to understand that, yes, his eyes are open, and yes he really is awake. He tries to raise a hand to pass over his eyes, just to test, and finds that he can't. When he tries to raise it up past his hips it smacks into cool metal. The most he can do his turn them, palms up, and place them against the confines of this  _space_  he's been trapped in. He would  _not_  say that other word. Not yet. Not until he knew what he was dealing with here.  
  
He tried to think, and was disturbed by the difficulty he had trying to summon his memories from before he lost consciousness. The last thing he could recall was with Jim and the away team. They were attacked. The natives outnumbered them, so many of them, that it was almost a given that at least one of them would be caught. Bones stumbled.  
  
The last thing he heard was Jim crying out for him before something hit him in the back of the head.  
  
 _Concussed._  Bones thought to himself, which would explain the throbbing ache reverberating wickedly throughout his skull. He tried again to move his hands, being forced to slide them along his abdomen in order to move them, elbows cracking into the side of his prison, and the top of it pressing down on him all the while. He could only move them to about his sternum, before they were in real danger of getting stuck there. The rest of him was in similar straits; his head forced to the side, unable to move without smashing his nose against the top.   
  
He would not panic. That would only use up whatever air he had left, and there was no telling how long he'd been in the box already. Not a coffin. Not  _his_  coffin. He would be rescued. Surely, they wouldn't just leave him there?  
  
Unless... unless Jim and the others were also in...  
  
Bones decided to think about something else.  
  
He instead tried to think of other things. Tried, and failed as his thoughts kept drifting back to Enterprise, to his crew mates, to his daughter. Joanna, who was still young enough that she needed her daddy. What if he never saw her again? Her cute little smile, her cubby little fingers. Would they tell her what happened? How sorry he was he couldn’t be there? Would she ever know?  
  
A niggling little voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Spock told him that this kind of thinking wasn't helping anything. Instead, he tried to concentrate on taking short, shallow breaths, so that the oxygen in this place would last him. It was hard to do, with his headache seemingly growing worse, and a creeping, terrifying tremor of fatigue latching into his muscles. It was clawing him down into the darkness, and tempting as it was to slip into it, he knew if he did, it was a blackness he definitely would not be waking up from.  
  
Even still, as the time slipped by, McCoy realized, he might have already fallen asleep and awoken several times. He shuddered softly. His breathing was beginning to shallow. He had no way of knowing exactly how long he'd been out, or even how long he'd been in there.  
  
His nose was beginning to itch, and he was developing a terrible cramp in his neck and his calves. Nausea curled at his gut, and he wanted so badly to wrap himself around it, try to soothe the overwhelming feeling of terror. The best he could do was put a hand on his gut. It didn't help.  
  
Suddenly, there was a loud explosion. It shook the metal box so hard Bones hit his head on the top of it and the sheer pain of it sent him reeling again. Another dented the top of the box inward, pressing down painfully on his hips and pinning his hands firmly to his sides. This time he screamed, kicking as hard as he could against the lid, which wasn't much considering his disadvantage. Bones heard himself screaming as though through a lens, watching someone else. The thought that they were going to kill him; that he couldn’t stand another blast like that, ripped to shreds the last of his calm. Stop it!  _Stop trying to blow me up! I'm here! I'm here! I'm here!_  
  
Bones choked, and he realized then what that little fit had cost him. He was out of time.   
  
It burned, worse than merely holding your breath under the water, which is somehow what he expected it would be like. His chest was on fire. He tried to keep still, but it was so hard, so hard to keep his chest from heaving, trying desperately to take in oxygen that simply wasn't there. He vaguely wondered why he couldn’t just pass out, and get it over with.  
  
He didn't have time to deal with this, as another explosion rocked the box, shaking him again, cracking him against all sides of the thing over and over so badly he saw stars. This time, though, the integrity of his prison shattered. A small corner of it broke in, and dirt began to pour in on his boot.  
  
Finally, the lid was ripped from its place and tossed aside. The crash of air into his lungs was almost too much, bringing him once again to the edge of blackness. He went into a coughing fit more painful than any he'd ever had, just trying to get his breathing under control again. He tried to look up through squinting, watery eyes at his rescuers. Neither of them he could recognize, between watering eyes and the shadow of the waning sun, but before he could give it much thought, one of them reached in, grabbed him by the collar, and yanked him to his feet. The sudden motion forced his body to its limits, and finally pushed him headlong in unconsciousness.  
  
The next time Bones woke up, he found he was being carried, nestled comfortably against a man's chest. He didn't manage to get a good look at him, as someone else was fitting some kind of breathing apparatus over his face. He thought he could smell some kind of medicine being filtered through it. The thought that perhaps he ought to be disturbed by these developments were quickly overshadowed by the intense feeling of weakness he felt. He nuzzled the shoulder of the man he was pressed up against, and fell back into unconsciousness.

~

He didn't realize he'd woken up again until he had the startling realization that he'd been staring at his own hand next to him on the pillow for a long while now. Bones squeezed his eyes closed, muttering some obscenity, and pushed himself up from the biobed.  
  
He shouldn't have done that. His head reeled, and he decided it would be safer to just lie back down, before his equilibrium suffered further.  
  
"Hey, you're awake!"  
  
Bones didn't even try to hide the grimace, as he turned his head just slightly to catch a glimpse of the gold bedecked man. "How observant of you, Jim."  
  
Jim grinned at his long-suffering friend, and took up a position beside the bed, arms crossed over his chest. "How are you doing?"  
  
"I just came back from the dead; how are you?"   
  
Jim's features softened marginally, his shoulders slumping. Seeing his reaction, Bones took a second to replay that comment in his head, and immediately regretted it. He briefly gave thought to blaming it on the drugs he just knew he was on, and pushed the notion away when he remembered he was this cranky  _without_  any medicinal aid, so no one would believe him.  
  
"I'm sorry you had to go through that, Bones. I should have..."  
  
Ugh. Bones really didn't want to hear this.  
  
"Oh, stop it." He cut him off, quickly. This conversation had just started, and it was already driving him nuts. "I don't want to know what happened. I don't want to know how things went down, and I definitely, definitely don't want to listen to you apologize for something that wasn't your fault."  
  
Jim's head dropped marginally, weighed down with the guilt that Bones just frustratingly knew was for him. "What would help, then?"  
  
Bones considered it for some time. Trying to form a thought seemed like too much damned work for right now. He gave up the impulse, merely waving his captain forward.  
  
"Just be quiet, Jim."  
  
The blonde gave him a short nod.   
  
"And sit down." He held up a hand as Jim turned away, presumably to find a chair. "No, no, no. Right here."  
  
Jim obligingly sat on the edge of the biobed, scooting close to Bones' hip.  
  
"Here." Bones reached out, taking Jim's hand in his, carefully threading their fingers together, and pulling Jim's hand to rest over his stomach. "That'll do it."  
  
Jim snorted, reaching up to stroke a soft line across Bones' forehead. It really didn't feel that great, what with his head pounding and all, but he had the feeling that Jim needed the touch as much as he did.  
  
"I know you said not to say anything, but if you ever scare me like that again..."  
  
"I'll keep it in mind, Jim." Bones replied, giving the much younger man a gentle smirk for his troubles.  
  
"...and if I ever see you cuddling Spock like that when you  _aren't_  drugged, there'll be hell to pay."  
  
"I'll... wait, what?"  
  
Jim cracked a wide smile, and kept whatever he knew to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Still alive? Congrats. Now check me out at
> 
> a-dangerous-sociopath.tumblr.com
> 
> hellscomingwithme.deviantart.com


End file.
